


get (gut)fucked

by polkaprintpjs



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gore, M/M, Murder, Sadism, Torture, gut fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkaprintpjs/pseuds/polkaprintpjs
Summary: read the tags uwu,,,,, ty red!!! sorry it took forever lmao
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	get (gut)fucked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Red Dragon (Red_Dragonn)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Dragonn/gifts).



> read the tags uwu,,,,, ty red!!! sorry it took forever lmao

You smile down at him. The mech is shaking so hard his plating clatters; and how wonderful it is. 

You slowly kneel, a hand the size of his torso cupping his face. There’s a high, grating wheezing from his vents as he shakes and shakes. 

You settle your knees a fraction further apart, still smiling. 

He doesn’t struggle as you guide him onto his back beneath you, legs securely tucked under you. It’s more fun when they struggle but you can’t be assed to provoke it; time enough for that later with a livelier one. 

You keep one hand cradling his helm as the other strokes across his stomach plating. 

He’s still shaking, less now. You’re not so foolish as to think he’s calming down; rather, he’s going into shock from stress. 

Well, that’s no fun  _ at all _ . 

You hum to yourself as you pet at him. 

“You know who I am,” you say. He whimpers outright. Not so far gone, then. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering what, exactly, I intend to do to you.” You pause, still smiling, still soothing. 

You wait until his gold optics flick to yours, almost as if he can’t help it. 

You stroke his cheek with your thumb in reward. “You know, you’re rather lucky. Most of the ones I select, they stay alive for joors. Poor, poor things.” 

The shaking starts up again. Good. “You, though- you won’t live much longer than, oh, a groon or two.” 

You keep smiling benevolently down at him. 

“Usually I’d draw it out, but what I want today isn’t the sort of thing to be drawn out.” 

He’s gasping through his intake now, fans unable to cope. You shift your thumb to his throat, where the energon hums briskly through his lines. Hmm. 

This will do, you think. Your hand is still petting circles on his stomach. 

You drum your fingers once, twice, relishing the flinch.  He does much, much more than flinch when you calmly dig your fingers into the plating and tear a hole in his torso- much more. 

He screams and thrashes wonderfully, fingers clawing at the hand still holding his helm ever  _ so _ gently. 

His wailing gets louder and more pitiful when you pressurize your spike and guide it into the hole. 

Ohhhhhh _ yes _ . You pump your hips slowly, the energon spurting from ruptured internals to massage your spike. What internals you didn’t just destroy yield easily to the press of your spike; a smaller frame made with shoddy materials can’t hope to survive you. 

You rut faster, free hand grinding what of his frame is intact to sludge as you go. You don’t even notice when he fades, just note the grey of the intact legs beneath you when you sit back on your heels. 

Energon and other fluids drip from your still hard spike and streak along your thighs, you note. Mmmm. It doesn’t take long to finish again, fisting your spike and amusing yourself by pressing his optics till they shatter. 

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr @megatronismegagone uwu


End file.
